his own. A
few hundred dollars at the most were all he had ever possessed. Now he
had thousands. Money was his god, and to escape from danger and carry it
with him seemed prudent. He was aware he was suspected of being, and in
fact was known to be, a smuggler. While as yet undiscovered in his
island lair, he might at any time be pounced upon. His act of swindling
his accomplices, he knew well, would create revengeful enemies, who
would spare neither time nor money to hunt him down.

Then there was the Indian whom he had also robbed from the start. He
might become suspicious and betray him, or worse yet, discover the
secret of the rocking stone. Wolf had discovered it by accident; why
might not the Indian? With murder in his heart, Wolf for the first time
began to be afraid. He put the pistols he had always carried in perfect
order and ready for instant use. So far as he had discovered, the Indian
possessed neither knife nor pistol; but nevertheless Wolf feared him,
and the more he realized the danger he had incurred in duping his
assistants in smuggling, and how much he was really in the power of his
giant-framed partner, the more his fears grew. It may be thought it was
conscience working in him; but it was not, for such as he have none. It
was guilty fear, and that only. This so preyed upon his mind during his
last trip to the coast that he could hardly sleep. Then he began to
imagine that the Indian was suspicious of him. To allay that danger he
doubled the small share of profit he had given his partner, knowing full
well if he had no chance to spend it, it would all come back to him in
the end. Then he set about deceiving him by an offer to buy the Sea Fox
and pay what he believed the Indian would consider a fabulous price. It
was a fatal mistake. The Indian had no real idea of the value of his
sloop. It had come to him as payment for his share of a successful
fishing-trip to The Banks years before, and he had become attached to
that craft. It had been his home, his floating wigwam, for a long time,
and for Wolf to want to buy it hurt him.

"Me no sell boat," he said, when the offer was made. "Me want sloop long
time."

Wolf, who valued all things from a miser's standpoint, could not
understand that there might lurk in the Indian a tinge of sentiment. He
was mistaken, and the mistake was a little pitfall placed in his way.

There was another which he was also to blame for, and yet, like the
first, he was not aw